


A Winter Storm

by beejohnlocked



Series: Desus Holiday Bingo 2K17 [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl isn't a fan of the snow, Fluff, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight, but he changes his tune, fluffy fluff, seriously it's just cute ass fluff, yessss sirreeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: Daryl hates the snow. Let's see if Paul can turn that frown upside down, shall we?





	A Winter Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Desus Holiday Bingo prompt challenge. I chose "Snow" as my first entry. Enjoy!

Daryl had always hated the snow. Cold, wet, uncomfortable, _ugly_ and _unwelcome_ white crap. Living in the whereabouts of Georgia his entire life, he didn't have much experience with large storms beyond a couple. It had been a long-ass time before the apocalypse hit, and there was never more than a foot of the stuff. He was thankful as hell it wasn't something he had to deal with much. At least not in the south. But he didn't live in the south anymore, did he? And that was never more obvious than the first time they got hit with a snowstorm after relocating to the Northeast, because they got _hit_.

Daryl and Paul had gone on a run together on Maggie's behest, gathering a handful of things for the Hilltop. Daryl later remembered how Paul had behaved during the trip, looking thoughtful, brows furrowed and sniffing at the air, but he hadn't said anything. However, no more than an hour after they'd returned to their community, the sky opened up and left unrelenting sheets of white in its wake.

Daryl hid in Paul's trailer, fully unprepared. No amount of coaxing on the part of the handsome ninja could budge him from the assprint he'd been establishing in Paul's couch for several months now. He didn't want to feel cold and damp, at least not by choice. This weather was bound to pass soon enough, he told himself.

Daryl's decisive stubbornness lasted all of three hours. Paul, fresh from his powwow with Maggie, burst into the trailer in a swirl of snowflakes and cold air.

"Get up. Come outside." His cheeks were flushed an adorable red. A childlike grin split his face as he tossed thick gloves and a stocking cap in Daryl's direction.

"Hell, no. Hate the cold." Daryl set the winter gear beside him, not tossing it to the floor in a fit the way he wanted to. It wasn't Paul's fault that winter was born from the devil's asshole. The Hell demon clearly loved the irony.

Regardless, Paul's face fell at Daryl's words. Clearly, he was trying to share something personal and meaningful with Daryl. You only had to take one look at him to see how much he relished this godforsaken weather. He was trying to have fun with Daryl, and as much as the snow and cold annoyed him, Daryl didn't want to disappoint and hurt Paul.

"Fine," he sighed. "But don't expect me to like it." Paul's expression, which had previously fallen at Daryl's initial refusal, was replaced once again with unabashed happiness.

Begrudgingly, Daryl shoved the hat on his head and pulled on the gloves. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed a flannel jacket from the back of a chair, too. If he was gonna go out in this shit, he may as well not freeze while he did it.

He stood there, awkward as all hell. "I'm not really good at winter. What do I do?"

Paul's grin didn't fade in the slightest. "Come with me."

Daryl followed the other man outside and if it wasn't some shit straight out of a winter wonderland, he was Santa Claus himself. He wasn't sure where people had found all the holiday lights, but clearly it had been managed as all of Barrington house was decorated and glowing in multicolor. The stables and several trailers also had lights strung upon them. Snow was a thick layer covering the entire community, and it was still coming down in heavy clumps.

"....I-"

Daryl didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to _think_. The beauty around him was so pure, so all-encompassing, words did not seem sufficient. It felt like all the pain, anger, and rawness of the new world had somehow been tempered by the thick white blanket. And Daryl himself felt the effect as well. For instead of the desire to lash out or employ sarcasm, he had an itching desire to hug Paul. To hold him, to kiss him, to ask him how he felt about this entire thing. Them. What they were. What they could become. 

They'd been dancing around this thing between them for months now, ever since the war ended and Daryl moved in. They'd somehow built a life together without even trying to. Daryl started think of himself as an "us", and he wasn't even sure when it started. And as much as he thought Paul would end up driving him crazy, it had been the opposite. They just _worked_. Played off of and balanced one another and fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. They made decisions together, they went on runs together, they even gave a joint gift when Maggie had little Hershel. They'd become a couple. Except for that one thing. The actual romance and sex part.

Daryl's feelings were romantic, he knew that. He'd been in love with Paul for a long while now, he thought it actually started when he first met him and grew from there. After the war ended, with Alexandria and the Kingdom burned to the ground and everyone relocated to the Hilltop, Paul had pulled Daryl into a tight hug and said "I'm glad you're okay. You're staying with me." And Daryl knew. This man had carved out a piece of his heart and built a home there and there was no going back. Which was all well and good if only he could bring himself to make a damn move.

And then this...perfection all around him. The peace and tranquility and the flakes falling from the sky and making Paul's hair sparkle like diamonds. Daryl didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, He just sat there, taking it all in, trying to come up with a way to react to the snow, to react to _Paul_. The joy lighting up his face, like a kid on Christmas Day, was blinding in its pure beauty. It might be easier if the snow would bury Daryl. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with all of this emotional stuff.

He sighed and ran his hand through the ends of his hair, tugging the stocking cap more firmly into place and coming back to reality. He needed to say something and stop standing around like an ass, but before he could, he suddenly had a face full of snow. Daryl sputtered unattractively.

"The hell-?"

Another hastily assembled snowball hit his left side, followed by Paul's high-pitched giggle. "Come on, it's fun!"

"What do you think you're doin'? I ain't playing this kid shit." Daryl tried to remain stoic, but he couldn't stop a tiny twitch of his mouth at Paul's shit-eating grin.

The man responded by whipping yet another handful at Daryl, hitting him on the side of the head this time, before he doubled over in fits of laughter.

"Oh, that's it, you're gonna get it, you little shit!"

Daryl dove forward and started gathering fistfuls of snow in his gloved hands. Paul shrieked and his arm turned into one of those damn pitching machines, throwing snow faster than Daryl thought possible while still managing to duck all of Daryl's own pathetic attempts to hit him.

After about five minutes of this, Daryl had enough and ran at Paul like a battering ram, taking about six snowballs to the face before he tackled him into the snow.

Paul let out a little " _oof_ " at the impact before giggling some more. That is until Daryl pinned him down and shoved several handfuls of snow into his face and hair. They rolled around like that for a while, laughing and sputtering and hollering until their noses were like ice and they were completely out of breath.

Daryl ended up above Paul once more, just staring at him. Paul's eyes actually twinkled as he smiled softly, and it suddenly became the simplest thing in the world to cross those few inches of distance and kiss him.

Paul made a surprised little sound before kissing back enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Daryl's neck and giving back as good as he got. Better even, since Daryl didn't know what the hell he was doing and was pretty sure Paul could tell.

They didn't break apart for ages, even when the catcalls and whistles became a steady hum in the background, even when Daryl's back had its own dusting of snow. He knew there would be a lot more firsts after this, and they had a lot to talk about, but for now, it didn't matter. They would figure it out.

They always did.

 

 


End file.
